The Marlboro democrat. [volume] (Bennettsville, S.C.) 1882-1908, 1887-02-02

Portcaster, sent me here to have o
power Of attorney drawn out, and
haven't passed any hotels"
"No, + should think not,' said Mark
Plinlimmon, with a cherry laugh. "We
don't deal much in hotels along this
road. But you are kindly welcome to
stay here rs long rs you like, Mr."
"NIiddleworth,' said the stranger,
"Rufus Middleworlh.
And lie sat down his valise and
looked around at the dark oiled win
scoting, the ceilings traversel by mon
ter beams, the latticcd easements, the
old oak settles OH each side Of the
blazing logs.
"You seem to have a llne farm here,
Mr.. Plinlimmon," said he, "and finely
kept"
"It's not bad" said Mark, carelessly
"And everything In real old English
style"
Eyes" said Mark, "it belonged to
an old Lincolnshire family who took a
fancy to settle out here. They got to
dabbling in railroad shares, and failed.
Tho daughters went back to their
friends In England, such as they had.
The father blow his brains out in Now
York. The estate was sold fore
closure. I bought it. There's the his.
tory of Purple Peak farm.
Madeline Vassar's father sat down
on the old oakcn settle, and looked keen
ly at the tall young farmer. How glad
he would have been If only he could
see into his heartl For no father will
ingly gives the apple OF his eye to a
stranger.
"IIls face and mien arc good" he
told himself. II wonder IL his nature
matches It. wonder how can find
out.''
One by one the different members of
the family dropped in as ho sat talking
with Mark Plinllmmon. Old Mrs.
Plinlimmon was flrst--a mild, white
haired matron. with soft, wstful-eyes;
then a rosy. checked brace Of nephews.
'"Their father and mother are dead"
observed Mark, $50 adopted them, and
line fellows they are.'
"Not bad SYMPTOM" said Middle
worth Vassar TO himself. But Of
course most people are good to their
own kith and KIM
{ And then entered most majestic
old man, with long, white hair hang
ing over Ills shoulders, leaning on a
cane.
s'And this,'' said Mark, is on" "Uncle
Joe,'' fastening as he spoke to set an
easy chair for the ancient patriarch.
"Uncle Joe. this is Mr.. Mtddleworth,
who has come from Portcaster. have
invited him to stay all night-if you do
not object.'
Uncle Joe waved his hand like an
old prince.
vile is welcome lie SAID; Every
welcome. Mark. In fact any friend of
yours is welcome TO Purple Peak
farm"
And then he began to warm himself
at the blaze and fell into sort Of a
reverie,
Uncle Joe, whoever he migh5 be, was
evidently tho person Of most considera-
tion in the little household. He sat at the
head Of the little table, and said grace
before meat; and had the warmest
corner, the easiest chair, the most ten
der consideration; and finally, when he
trudged upstairs to bed, Mark dutiful-
ly held the door open for him to pass
through, and Mr.. Middleworth asked
with some interest:
"Who IS that old gentleman? lie
has very fine face. Of course know
that ho Is your uncle
"No," said Mark Plinlimmon. smil.
ing; ''he Is not my uncle at all. He Is
NO relation in the world to me"
"Then who does he belong to?,
"IIo belongs to nobody. He is sort
OF cousin to Mr.. Pendexter, the
Englshman who built tho house. He
went with the young women to Lin
colnshlre, but he was not welcome
there. IIo was old. you SEQ, and pen-
niless, and past work. SO he came
back here. and they put him in the
work-house. But think the shock and
all touched his mind; and one day we
found him here on the steps. I have
come home, he said. The work-house
authorities sent for him, but wouldn't
let him 90 back. He ia very old. Won